1943. Shanghai. A soldier of the Japanese Army happens by a club one night purely out of boredom. What he expects to find are uncouth drunks. He actually meets a beautiful African-American performer by the name of Beatrice. Throughout the next three...
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juukyuu
nineteen
The sunflower field turned into dirt roads. The trickle of rain and petals of sakura. Children laughing, running, playing. The drip of water as it dropped back into fresh cold harvest from the spring. Clear beads and rivulets. Startling blue, rich cerulean. Rich tawny skin. White of winter. Memories of fingers pulling obi apart in haste. Hair crushed in between them. Kimono sprawled across tatami as mere wrapping of a greater offering. Sound. Pain. Joy. Laughter. Pleasure. Tears thread liquid transcendence down until it soaked into the rush grass.
With everything in him, he wanted to return. The returning was all he asked for. And so, with a gentle hand, smile and lips, closer and closer. Otousan stood, face stern and kind. Okaasan sat quietly beside his standing form, patience and grace living in her eyes. Mitsuko dangled her bare feet over engawa, expression rambunctious. And then, she was radiant and breathtaking, her teeth smiling prettily.
"Tadaima,."
"Okaerinasai, Ikki."
***
The sound of crying woke Meredith up and she jumped out of bed and hastily threw on a robe, prying open her door. As she grew closer to Mr. Matsuda's room, the crying intensified. Stopping in her tracks, she felt her heart break as she watched Asami crumble into pieces. Her mother, two uncles and one aunt were all standing in the doorway, blocking her view. But Asami stayed in the hallway, hands and arms covering her face.
"Sami..."
"He's gone.....he's gone Mere..." She felt her eyes well up with tears and before she knew it, she had begun to bawl. Sinking to her knees, she pulled her friend in close and hugged her tight.
"I'm sorry Sami... so sorry..."
***
She had called him and he wasted no time going to her. Eyes misty with tears, he blinked them back as he sped up on the freeway. His heart cracked into little tiny pieces, knowing that he was one of the last people to see or talk to him.
***
He stood by the door, heart pounding. The larger than life, uncouth and crass old man from weeks ago now seemed like a distant memory. Who looked up at him now was a human shell, a compilation of eyes, bones and skin. He weakly lifted a hand, beckoning him to come in. He felt like he swallowed his whole stomach but did as he bade, carefully entering into the room. The hospice nurse sat by his bed, holding what looked like paper.
